The Sounds of Silence
by EstelRaca
Summary: Edgeworth and Athena take a few moments away from the group celebration to talk. Set shortly after Dual Destinies.


**Author's Note:** This is set shortly after Dual Destinies, because I desperately needed to see Edgeworth and Athena discuss some of the issues that intersect in their lives.

 _The Sounds of Silence_

Athena stands outside the restaurant, ten paces from the door, breathing in slow, even droughts of the cool night air.

All of her friends are still inside. She can hear them, if she strains her ears, a cacophony of laughter and puns and good humor. Trucy is currently arguing with Apollo about what his role in the agency is, as per usual; Pearl is being encouraged by Mr. Wright to join in the fun. The detective Ema, a friend of Apollo's and Mr. Wright's, is ordering desert; Klavier Gavin, rock star and prosecutor, is currently singing karaoke, his voice surprisingly pleasant on the slow ballads, harsher and with sharper emotion that stings her ears on the faster pieces he selects. Athena doesn't hear Simon's voice, but Simon has been relatively silent all evening, seemingly overwhelmed by the outside world after so many years in prison.

As Athena has become overwhelmed by the sounds in the restaurant, and begged a few minutes away from her own acquittal party to get some fresh air.

She's glad that she came to the party, though she considered not attending when Mr. Wright first proposed the outing. She appreciates the sentiment, of course—both the celebration of her acquittal and the celebration of the end of the Phantom case, which is why Klavier and Ema and a boulder of a detective that seems to have the unfortunate name Dick Gumshoe are here—but she knows herself well enough to know that after all that happened her senses will be particularly sharp and prone to overload. And she wasn't _wrong_ about that, but Mr. Wright was correct in his gentle assertion that there would be enough _good_ in the evening to make up for it.

Though she still hears grief and pain on every word that leaves Apollo's mouth, she can also hear the joy in his snide comments to Trucy, his relief and gratitude that things are returning to normal.

Though Trucy's words contain an element of fear and anger still, the young woman smarting from what she sees as Apollo's betrayal, they are far outshone by Trucy's utter glee at having Apollo back in the fold.

Though Mr. Wright's voice is still a minefield of different emotions, too numerous to name, contentment and satisfaction have been slowly supplanting all the others.

(She doesn't allow herself to probe too deeply into the others, into the wistfulness that twines into Pearl's voice as she talks about Mystic Maya or Phoenix Wright; into the old, dull sorrow that touches Ema's voice as she says that Lana would have been able to make the party, if it were in another four months; into the way Klavier's voice can slide from happy flirtation into jagged edges of sorrow and loss without a break in the man's expression or the cadence of his words. The overall feel from all of them today is _happiness_ , a determined _satisfaction_ in a job well done, and there is a certain relief, almost, in knowing she is not the only one here bearing scars beneath her joy.)

Putting her hands to her ears, Athena hums to herself, blocking off the sounds of the outside world for a few seconds. Buying herself the time she needs to disentangle her thoughts, to let go of the threads of conversation that she could still almost-hear, to focus just on being _herself_ and being _right here._

When she lowers her hands again, she can't make out any words from inside the building, just a general sussurrus of sound. Cars keep the night from being truly silent, a near-constant _hmm-swish_ twenty yards from where she is, but it is quiet enough in the darkness for her to breathe easily.

Lifting her head, she studies the washed-out stars and pale splinter-moon that shine down from a sky that is half-clouded. Rubbing at her arms, she tries to make the chill of the evening dissipate.

The sound of music and laughter spikes, the creak of the door slicing into Athena's head, but she ignores it. There is only one set of unfamiliar footsteps, and they are walking determinedly, most likely someone heading to their car rather than—

"Ms. Cykes?"

Athena tries and fails to suppress a startle at the unexpected voice. Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth has been the other silent party at their table for most of the night, though he wore a slight, surprisingly soft smile as he watched Phoenix, Trucy, Apollo and the rest. Athena had largely tried to ignore the man's presence, not certain what it is that she feels when she looks at him. Gratitude, that he worked to help save Simon? Anger, for the things he said while she was on trial? (Fear, still, piercing, bitter, biting fear, that she did something _wrong_ , that _she_ killed her mother, that if she had called for help instead of moving her mother onto the operating table that saved the robots so readily—)

"I'm sorry if I'm intruding." Miles Edgeworth stops just beyond arm's reach. His voice is calm, though there is a tentative probing, a hesitancy that could become discord. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he studies her through pale silver eyes. "I can speak with you another time, if you'd wish."

"No." Athena shakes her head, right hand rising to toy with her life-saving earring. "It's fine. I just needed a few minutes."

"Because of your sensitive hearing. I understand." Edgeworth inclines his head. "I just wanted to be sure you were well, and, if I may be so bold, to extend my apologies to you."

Athena blinks. "Apologies...?"

"I... don't know how familiar you are with my story. It was rather public and dramatic ten years ago, but given what else has happened in your life..." Edgeworth pauses, his eyes drifting away from hers, clearly uncomfortable. "Suffice to say I know how it feels to worry that one has caused the death of one's parent. Even if it was only for a short time, I am sorry that you had to experience what you did. Sorry for my role in it, as well."

Athena nods, tongue flicking out to wet her lips. She can practically taste the sincerity on Edgeworth's words, the old, well-scarred pain lingering behind his brief synopsis of what must have been a traumatic affair. "I don't blame you for what you said or did. It helped us get to the truth. Helped me remember."

She can't suppress a shiver as the memories, finally unlocked, try to resurface again. Blood on her hands. The feel of metal sinking into yielding flesh. Blood _everywhere_ , a sea that she can't escape from, and she gives herself a little shake, trying to stop the nightmare before it can get hold.

"Steady there, Ms. Cykes. Slow, even breaths." Edgeworth's voice is calm, collected, but with a core of steel that is easy to anchor to, and fingers brush against her hand, against her wrist.

"Sorry." Drawing another deep breath, blinking until she sees the restaurant lights reflecting off oil-slick concrete again rather than the ghosts of the past, Athena smiles at the older man. "Just... still too close, sometimes. I'm sure it'll get better..."

She can hear the hesitancy in her own voice, knows that he can hear it too as he takes a step back and shoves his hands into his pockets. "It will get better. It may never go away entirely, but it will get better. Knowing the truth, no matter how terrible, is far better than drowning in maybe and might haves."

"You... sound like you're speaking from experience." Athena is now the one who has her arms crossed across her chest, hugging herself as she peers up at Edgeworth.

"I do." The small smile that touches Edgeworth's face is hard to read. Bitter? Satisfied? Both? "Elevators and earthquakes were my major triggers, though there were others, sometimes. I won't say I'm comfortable with either now, but things have gotten better. And the dreams will fade, too."

"How do you know I'm having nightmares?" Athena tries to keep her voice light, though she can hear the slight tremble that betrays her as much as her arms hugged around her chest.

"I don't. But I know I did, and that Wright did, and that Gavin and Ema can still wake up screaming, sometimes. The joys of being their superior and all of us tending to work ridiculous hours." Edgeworth shrugs, and this time his smile is certain, his gaze nailing her in place and daring her to lie to him.

Athena hugs herself tighter, not quite meeting his eyes. "Nightmares are only one of the symptoms that people can get from PTSD, you know."

"I do." Edgeworth nods solemnly. "There are also flashbacks. Depression. Anxiety. Avoidance behaviors. Recurrent memory loops. Intrusive thoughts. Suicidal ideation. I'm fairly certain I've seen or experienced just about all of the recognized symptoms. But nightmares and interrupted sleep patterns are one of the more common manifestations."

"I know." Athena dredges up her own smile. "I am a psychologist, after all."

"True enough. And perhaps you've a different set of demons to contend with. Or perhaps you'll slay them faster than any of us have." Edgeworth inclines his head to her again, a gesture of respect. "I will wish you the best of luck with that... and offer any assistance I can."

Athena studies the man before her, trying to reconcile him with the prosecutor who stood and so calmly accused her of terrible things not twenty-four hours ago. Not with malice, though—never with malice, and that was part of what let her not hate him, let her accept his presence in the group tonight. He is many things—she has _heard_ many things in his voice—but cruel is not one of them. When there was anger in his voice, it was directed at the situation or at Wright for what he percieved as a failure of logic; when there was hatred, it was again directed at the situation, not the players. He is a _cynical_ man, in some ways—his mind moves to darker paths than hers or Mr. Wright's—but he is not cruel. "What... kind of assistance?"

"From me? Mainly referrals to various professionals and a promise that if you ever need some _time_ in court, it won't be denied." Edgeworth's eyes narrow. "Unless you attempt to abuse the privilege, but so far none of my people or Wright's people have."

"I wouldn't." It would be _humiliating_ , having to ask for the proceedings to be stopped because she's getting caught in a flashback or suddenly can't speak. But... there's also a kind of relief, in knowing that it's available. Knowing that if she really _needs_ to she can request a recess due to mental health, and not condemn her client. It was only luck that saved her last time, after all, Mr. Wright appearing at just the right moment. Just knowing that it's _acceptable_ to have these problems... knowing that she's not alone in facing them...

Turning away from Edgeworth, she paces in a short, tight circle, ashamed of the amount of relief it brings her to know that she's not alone. To know that she's not broken. To know that she isn't the first—and sadly probably won't be the last—person to have to face these monsters.

"It never hurts to ask for help." Edgeworth's hand reaches out but stops just short of touching her shoulder, his expression hesitant. His voice tentative—no longer certain how she will respond, if he is reading her correctly. "Even if you're a professional yourself... having someone else to talk to can make a difference."

"I know. Again, I actually studied this. I'm not going to neglect my own mental health."

" _Probably._ " Widget spits out the word with a happy trill.

Placing her hand over Widget, Athena tries to look like she's in control of the situation and _not_ blushing fiercely. "Definitely. Especially because Apollo needs us all to be there and be okay right now, given what he's lost and what he went through on his own these last few days."

"He didn't have to be alone." Edgeworth makes the observation drily. "There are people on both sides who would happily have assisted him."

"He thought Mr. Wright and Trucy were compromised by their proximity to me."

" _Couldn't trust me._ " Widget's voice is soft and sad under her hand. " _Couldn't trust myself._ "

Edgeworth is kind enough not to look at Widget or respond to Widget's declarations, though she can see his expression change as he pointedly raises his eyes to meet hers. "There were other people he could have gone to. Klavier and Ema could both have provided him with assistance."

"It's hard to make clear decisions about things like that when you're grieving and worried about betrayal." Both about being betrayed and about being the one betraying, and Athena's heart clenches tight as she thinks of how alone and hurt Apollo must have felt. "I... could have helped a lot if I'd just been honest with him and Mr. Wright from the start."

"Perhaps. But it did work out for the best in the end, and you're hardly the only one to hold the scars of your past close and private, so long as the world will let you." Edgeworth's right hand rises, toys with the edge of his cravat for a moment as his eyes go unfocused. Then he smiles as he turns his attention back to her, an expression that seems far too smug for the situation, and shrugs. "Communication is not really the forte of anyone in our little... association, I fear."

"Yeah, tell me about it." A hint of anger that she had _thought_ extinguished flares up again as she thinks back over the last few days. "Did you and Mr. Wright think that maybe you could fill Apollo and me in on what you were up to? Knowing that someone else was trying to save Simon as his execution day came closer would have made me feel better."

" _Jerk._ " Widget glows red under her hand.

Edgeworth's eyebrows both rise, and his lips twitch in what she suspects is a suppressed smile. "Given that I have only recently made your acquaintance, I feel I'm being falsely accused here. As for Wright's reasons for leaving you in the dark... well."

Edgeworth's eyes drop to the slightly damp pavement, his brow furrowing.

"It's all right." As quickly as it flared up the anger is gone again, and Athena finds herself lowering the hand that covers Widget and reaching out to Edgeworth. She can't quite bring herself to touch him, though, and her hand ends up flailing awkardly before she pulls it back to her chest. "I don't really blame either of you. I'm sure you did what you thought was best, both of you, and things did turn out all right."

"They did. The end result does not, however, justify the path that led to it. I believe you showed that rather conclusively several months ago." Edgeworth's left hand crosses his chest, hugging his right arm in a gesture that is clearly meant to give him comfort. "I didn't know exactly who was trustworthy—an internationally famous, very competent spy was involved, after all. The only one who knew the complete story was Wright. Even Blackquill didn't know everything I was doing or planning—partly because his bloody insistence that he was guilty both annoyed me and made him less trustworthy. I gave Wright the freedom to tell whoever he thought needed to know information what he thought they needed to know. But Wright..."

A tightening of Edgeworth's fingers where they grasp his arm, and Athena can't help a little gasp at all the emotions packed into that single name.

"Wright _believes_ in people. In the system. To a frightening and almost absurd extent, given what we've both seen. He believes in his clients; he believes that truth will win out in the end; he believes that if we can just weed out the corruption in the system, give it a few tweaks like the Jurist System to try to decentralize power, it will work. He _believes_ , despite all that Dahlia Hawthorne and Kristoph Gavin and I have put him through. But he doesn't _trust_ anymore." Miles Edgeworth is holding his arm so tightly Athena worries he will leave bruises there, and a low note of depthless sorrow mixes with a wind-soft whistle of fondness and a sharp, grating note of frustration in his voice. "Phoenix holds his cards close to his chest now, until he knows that playing them won't bring about more harm than good. He didn't tell you and Apollo all that he knew or all that I asked him to do, but I do know that he cares about both of you a great deal. Trusts you, as much as he trusts anyone. I can promise that it wasn't because he doubted you that he kept information to himself."

" _Promise?_ " Widget's tinny voice somehow manages to contain the desperate need for reassurance that Athena is old enough—wise and weary enough—to not ask for.

"I do promise." Edgeworth speaks to her, not to Widget, his silver eyes cool and certain.

"Thanks, Mr. Edgeworth." Athena raises her eyes to the stars again, her fingers once more returning to toy with her earring.

"You're welcome, Ms. Cykes." Edgeworth inclines his head the faintest degree. "As I said, I am... pleased with how things have turned out, and apologize for how difficult it must have been for you."

"Oh, stop apologizing." Athena waves her hand. "You were just doing your job."

"I was. But I know I can be... rather aggressive when facing off against Wright, as he can be with me." Edgeworth shrugs. "We know each other. We know where are limits are. We _trust_ the other to fight back with everything they have... and will be able to recognize when something is off or wrong about how the other is acting. As someone who had never seen us working together before, though, and as someone facing such accusations... it was not quite the first impression I would have chosen to make on one of Wright's proteges, if given the option."

"He means a lot to you, huh?" She doesn't think she would need her acute hearing to pick up on that, though it drips from every word that Edgeworth utters, trills in scales up and down under each sentence, faith and respect and trust and a certain strained, eager excitement as he talks about facing off against Mr. Wright in court.

"We've helped shape each other into the people we are today. We work well together." Edgeworth spreads his hands, palms up. "But there are others who mean a great deal to him, too."

"I know. I'm pretty sure Apollo does, too."

" _We'll tell him!_ " Widget glows green, his smile reflecting off the windows and the ground.

This time Edgeworth does look down at the little robot, and another small smile touches his mouth. "The four of you form a wonderful found family. Never let anyone forget that, or doubt how important it is."

"I... think there's more than four of us in this found family of ours."

If she strains her ears towards the door, Athena can make out the sound of Apollo laughing and protesting in equal measure while Trucy and Klavier apparently tickle him. Ema, Pearl, and Mr. Wright are all talking animatedly, though she can only catch every tenth word in their debate. Simon she still can't hear, but Taka appears to be getting attention from Detective Gumshoe and Maggey, and she can clearly picture the way Simon will preen as Taka is praised.

A small shift, a brush of expensive fabric against the brick of the building next to them, a quickening of a heartbeat two paces in front of her, and Athena refocuses her eyes on Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth.

"I can leave you alone again, Ms. Cykes. Thank you for your time."

"No problem. Though... you don't have to go. I mean, you can if you want to, but you don't have to." Athena can feel her face heat, and she preemptively covers Widget, hoping that Widget won't start saying anything embarrassing again.

Miles Edgeworth hesitates, then leans against the wall next to him again. "Would you like me to stay?"

"I... like having other people around." Especially lately, when memories of blood and death lurk just around every corner. Athena finds herself fiddling with her earring again. "And I'll be ready to go back in a minute or two."

"I'm happy enough to stay." Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Edgeworth lowers his head and closes his eyes.

Perhaps that's how Chief Prosecutors sleep, in quick power-naps between cases.

Covering her ears again, Athena hums softly to herself until the world has once more narrowed itself down to her and her immediate surroundings. To the beating of her heart, steady and sure. To the background static of the universe, a sound she has never been able to properly describe to others—the sound of photons against objects? The sound of atmosphere swirling slowly, slowly until it is caught up in some larger storm force?

There is another body breathing calmly and evenly next to her, and before she thinks to do so she has matched her breathing to his, can feel her heart rate slowing to match his.

She doesn't stand outside for much longer. They have a party to attend, after all, a party that is at least partly for her. A celebration of the victory of good—battered, scarred, believing, _trusting_ , no matter what Miles Edgeworth thinks—over all the darkness that has tried to permeate their world.

A celebration she is at the center of, laughing and joking and hugging these people she has come to care for deeply, relishing the sounds of their voices and emotions, happy and sad and everywhere in between, after the soothing sounds of silence give her the strength to handle it again.


End file.
